


Burning Through my Darkest Night

by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/pseuds/hollyandvice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jack's always known that he would follow in his father's footsteps. Major General in the King's Guard, standing at the king's left hand with his hand on a sword hilt, ready to fall on a blade for his king if that's going to be the cost of keeping the realm safe.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The thing he doesn't realize until he's eleven, though, is that he won't serve the same king as his father. The king will age, grow old, pass on the crown and scepter to the prince.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>And the thing is, the prince is no king.</i>
</p>
<p>A story about learning to love the ones you least expect, and trusting that that love is there for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Through my Darkest Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hlundqvists](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hlundqvists/gifts).



> This is an idea that came to me in December, but was backburnered in favor of one of my bigger projects. As that project is on hold until I can get a full beta for it, and with The Update last Friday, it seemed like the time to write this guy. As a result, I literally wrote 12k words of it in just over 36 hours after I finally got to read The Update after work last Friday, so god bless [hlundqvists](http://hlundqvists.tumblr.com/) for convincing me to write it in the first place and god bless [hedgerose](http://hedgerose.tumblr.com/) for helping me wrangle it into something presentable over the course of the last week.
> 
> Title from Beyonce's "Halo".

Jack's always known that he would follow in his father's footsteps. Major General in the King's Guard, standing at the king's left hand with his hand on a sword hilt, ready to fall on a blade for his king if that's going to be the cost of keeping the realm safe.

The thing he doesn't realize until he's eleven, though, is that he won't serve the same king as his father. The king will age, grow old, pass on the crown and scepter to the prince.

And the thing is, the prince is no king.

——

The first time Jack actually meets Prince Eric, Jack's eleven, and it's an accident. The call has gone out that the prince has gone missing again, and Jack wishes that he were old enough to help in the search, but he's still just a page. So he's in a clearing a quarter mile from the barracks, training with Kent, while the rest of the King's Guard scours the castle and the grounds for the wayward prince. Kent grows bored after about thirty minutes, and begs off of training.

"Come on, Jack. There's not even anyone here to make sure we're training. The rest of the boys—"

"The rest of the boys aren't going to be guarding the king one day. We are."

"Yeah, but not for ages, Jack."

Jack grits his teeth and tries not to be angry that, even after two years, Kent still doesn't get how important this is the way most of the highborn boys do. When Kent had first gotten an apprenticeship, when he'd apparently begged to serve the crown after his father was imprisoned for failing to meet his quota in the fields three years running, things had been different. Back then, it had seemed like he might learn to understand. Nowadays, though, Kent seems more interested in whatever castle gossip he can glean off the older boys than in his training.

"Come on, we can train later. We have the barracks to ourselves, and—"

"And nothing." Jack tries to set his jaw the way his father always does when he's made up his mind. "If you want to go goof off, fine, but I'm going to keep training."

Kent rolls his eyes and turns on his heel to head back to the barracks, grumbling under his breath. Jack ignores him, going through his stances with the same attention to precision that he always gives the task.

It takes another ten minutes before he hears it. A rustling in the trees that stills him in his motions. He wishes suddenly that he had his actual sword instead of a practice sword. But he knows his job as well as he always has, so he steps to the trees, his sword at the ready. As the figure bursts from the trees, Jack swings, only just stopping short a fraction of an inch from the boy's face.

From the _prince's_ face.

Jack stops short, eyes going as wide as the prince's, before he drops to one knee, offering the hilt of his sword to the prince. "Your Highness," he gasps out, his chest twisting tight with nerves. "I apologize for not honoring your presence. You have my apologies and my deepest regrets. Whatever punishment you—"

The prince shushes him, and Jack looks up, surprised, to see the prince looking furtively from side to side. "It's okay, just. Just don't tell anybody and we're even."

"Highness?"

The prince sighs. "I just wanted to go for a walk, but Georgia—"

"The _Major_?" Jack asks, stunned and thrown off by the prince's casual language.

"Yes, her, she wouldn't let me leave. But Father and Mother are busy all morning, and no one will let me anywhere near the kitchens on banquet days."

Jack bites his tongue on the insistence that the prince shouldn't be in the kitchens even if it _isn't_ a banquet day.

"So if she wasn't going to let me go, then I figured I would just leave. I mean, I'm already six, I'm certainly old enough to go out on my own."

Jack stares at the prince where he's standing, hands on his hips and eyebrow raised, like he's challenging Jack to talk back. Something in the look makes Jack want to. "Permission to speak?"

"Granted," the prince says, waving in hand that's significantly more dismissive of the request than regal.

"Your Highness should not be unattended outside the confines of the castle."

"Right. Because Georgia lets me out of the castle whenever I feel like it." The prince snorts. "She'd just as well keep me in with my tutors all day. I already know I'm going to be king one day, that doesn't mean I'm one yet."

That startles Jack. It was something he'd known, of course, but never thought of. His father serves the king, and Jack has always known he would too, but his king won't be the same man as his father's. His king will be this boy.

Jack stares a little longer, trying to make sense of the boy in front of him. Then he tilts his head to the side. Better for him to be with the prince than for the to prince be alone.

"I can show you around the grounds, if you want."

The prince lights up. "You mean it?"

"As long as you promise to come back with me after you've had your fill."

The prince's face goes soft and a little sad. "I know my duty, Page. I would never shirk it when the people needed me."

Jack feels his throat go a little tight, stunned and shocked at the prince's words. "Jack," he says softly. The prince tilts his head to the side, a polite question in his face. "My name. It's Jack." The he swallows, worried that he's gone too far. "Your father always calls my father Robert, so I thought—"

The prince's face breaks into a wide grin. "Jack. I'm Eric."

Jack nods. "I know, Highness."

The prince shakes his head. "No, I want you to call me Eric. Just like your father does."

Jack's eyes go wide. Then he nods, slow and understanding. "Of course, Highness. Eric," he corrects, when Eric's about to open his mouth to correct him. "Of course, Eric." Then he gets to his feet, sheathing his sword in the same motion. He steps toward the prince, turning so that they're shoulder to shoulder. "Shall we?"

The grin Eric gives him is blinding.

——

When Jack's father finds them, Jack has been both baffled and amused by the prince more often in the last two hours than he thinks he has been in his whole eleven years previous. The prince is a marvel and a mystery, and Jack will tell his father as much that night at dinner. The prince is both more and less a king than Jack had ever thought, and he will tell his father as much that night as well. There are so many things that Jack will tell his father that will assure Robert that he has groomed his son for his position better than anyone could have expected.

But right now, Jack doesn't think he's seen his father as angry as he is right now.

Jack hangs his head, his shoulders curling in on himself even as he makes sure to place himself between the prince and his father (and that too will convince Robert that there is no one better suited to protect the prince than his son).

"Jack."

Jack curls in on himself even tighter, his heart in his throat as he waits for whatever punishment his father will lay down on him.

"It wasn't his fault!" Jack lets his arm shoot out automatically to hold the prince back, already knowing that the prince will try to come to his defense, however misguided his attempt may be. The prince huffs beside him, but doesn't try to move past Jack's arm. "I'm the one that ran away. Jack was just keeping me safe!"

"Be that as it may, Your Highness, he should have brought you straight back to the castle."

"I didn't _want_ to go back!" Jack winces, wondering if a temper tantrum is coming. "I didn't want to go back and Jack was the only one that didn't try to make me go back."

Robert sighs, kneeling down so that he's on the prince's eye level. "Highness."

The prince deflates the same way Jack knows he always does when his dad uses that tone of voice on him. "I know."

Robert nods decisively before reaching out to take the prince's hand and walk him back to the castle.

Jack wonders if his father can see the stubborn line of Eric's spine the same way he can.

——

One year and eleven escapes later, Jack can tell that something's changed. Jack's been the one to find Eric eight of those eleven times, and the rest of the Guard is less than pleased. When he'd finally brought Eric back to the castle the last time, the knight Jack had brought him to had pursed his lips and turned on his heel, gesturing sharply for Eric and Jack to follow. The king hadn't said anything to Jack when he dropped Eric off, but Eric had had a look on his face that promised hell to pay.

So when Jack's father comes home two nights later with a secretive look and a package, Jack thinks he's probably finally getting in trouble. His father hands the package to Jack after dinner, that same smile on his face, and Jack tears into the package, not knowing what to expect.

When he pulls a squire's uniform out of the packaging, he stares at it for a full minute before he finds the strength to look up at his father. "Papa?"

"They're yours, Jack."

"But… But I'm only twelve."

His dad moves to sit beside him, one arm wrapping over Jack's trembling shoulders. "It was more or less the prince's idea," he says gently. "He says he's not going to stop running away, so they might as well just give him a guard that will keep an eye on him."

Jack turns away from his father to stare at the uniform in his hands, shock and the faintest hint of apprehension mixing in his stomach as the reality starts to settle in. It's an honor to be sure, and he's certainly had more luck reading the prince's whims, but. But his father had been a full knight before he'd started serving the king, and Jack's still so _young_ ; isn't there someone _better_ , someone that—

"The king and I spoke it over, and the prince is right. We've been far too restrictive about who he can and can't see, have kept him from everyone his age aside from other young royals and a few of the maids' daughters when he would sneak out to the kitchens. It's time he had someone closer to his age that he knows he can trust completely."

Jack throws his arms around his father's shoulders, holding tight while he fights down the biggest smile he's ever worn. "Thank you Papa," he whispers. Then he draws back, tugging off his page's uniform and pulling the squire's uniform over his head. It settles on his shoulders and feels so right there, that, for a moment, Jack can forget that this is only a stepping stone. That there are more ranks to earn, more people to protect, and that this isn't enough.

But it's a start.

He runs back into the kitchen to show his mother, who claps her hands over her mouth before leaning down and wrapping him up in the tightest hug she's ever given him.

"I'm so proud of you, honey."

Jack smiles back before turning back to where his father is leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on his face. "Can I go show Kent?"

Something crosses over his father's face, but in the end he nods. "Of course, Jack. Run on ahead."

Jack grins back, sprinting out of the house to see Kent.

Kent's all grins when he opens the door to his room in the barracks, his eyes bright on Jack's face. Then his eyes catch on the red of Jack's clothes and the smile drops off his face. "Jack?"

Jack blinks, confused by the sudden change in Kent's demeanor. "Hi, Kent."

Kent shakes his head, plastering on a smile. "What're you wearing, you weirdo? Your dad's old uniform?"

Jack feels his shoulders curl in, a little defensive. "It's mine."

Kent frowns. "We don't get ours for another two years."

"The prince—" Jack cuts himself off at the way Kent's face darkens at the mention of the prince. It's been a game for Kent this last year, to see if he can find the prince before Jack when he goes missing.

He's never managed it.

Jack squares his shoulders and forges ahead, ignoring the twist of nerves in his chest. "The prince asked for a new guard, and the king and my father decided—"

Kent scoffs. "Of course, since it's _your_ father they'd choose you."

Jack feels his hackles rise, indignant that Kent would think that he's just getting this because of his father. He expects that from the other boys, but not from Kent. He tells Kent as much.

"Right," Kent sneers, "like you aren't thinking the same thing."

Jack can't remember the last time Kent made him feel this small. He swallows. "I can give it back."

"Don't bother." Kent slams the door in Jack's face, and suddenly, standing in the cold outside the house of the only person he'd thought would stand by him through this, Jack feels none of the warmth he'd felt only half an hour ago when his father had presented him with the uniform.

All he feels is cold.

——

Jack is still reeling from Kent's rejection last night when his father rouses him just before dawn, waking from vague dreams of losing track of Eric and Kent's disdainful face and shadows haunting him at every corner. Jack tries not to notice the worried look in his father's eyes, knows that there's more than just his own future riding on this. His father has done so much, is such a well-respected member of the Guard, and Jack can't shake the gnawing sensation in his stomach that he's going to mess all that up. But Jack knows his duty, so he dresses in his new uniform—it feels stiffer than it had last night—and follows his father up to the castle.

His father escorts him through the wide, winding halls of the castle. Jack hasn't been in here since the midwinter festival, and has certainly never been to the parts of the castle his father is showing him toward. But he follows, holding the confusing ache in his chest as he does.

When they reach the prince's quarters, he's still asleep, and Major Georgia is speaking to the guards stationed outside his quarters.

Robert stays out of the conversation, only stepping into Georgia's space when the other two have left. She straightens when she catches sight of him, but relaxes slightly when her eyes catch on Jack. "Major General. The king was in favor?"

"He was," Robert concedes, smiling between Georgia and Jack.

Georgia leans over just slightly to meet Jack's eyes. She searches his eyes before settling on a smile, holding out a hand for him to shake. "Welcome to the King's Guard, Jack." Jack smiles shakily back, and Georgia's face softens. "It will be a hard road, but I know you're up for it." Jack nods, swallowing the tightness in his throat. "Well, go on in and wake him, why don't you."

"Major?" he asks, a little confused.

Georgia just smiles. "He'll be glad to see you."

Jack turns to face the door, and opens it on the new world in front of him.

——

In the first week, Jack has to bite his tongue no less than thirty-seven times to keep from scolding the prince, either for trying to duck his responsibilities or for comments that demonstrate a total lack of understanding of what his duties will be as king. Scolding the prince is Georgia's job, not his. And yet, every time Eric turns to him, a secret smile on his face for whatever he thinks he's gotten away with, Jack just feels angry. Angry that this boy, who holds Jack's future in his hands, is taking the whole thing so lightly. Jack's spent his whole life fighting to be better than anyone else, to be as good as his father, to live up to the expectations he inherited simply by who his father is. If anyone should understand that, it's Eric.

But he doesn't.

So Jack says nothing and stands, stoic and silent at the prince's side.

Finally, as Jack helps the prince prepare for bed one night just over a week after he became a squire, he asks. "Why do you always want to skip your lessons?"

The prince blinks up at him, head tilting to the side. "You haven't talked to me all week, and that's the first thing you ask?"

Jack frowns back. "We've spoken this week, Your Highness."

The prince snorts. "Not about anything real."

Jack thinks over what he's said to the prince over the last week and finds himself realizing how right he is. He nods at the prince. "True. I'm afraid I don't know how to speak to you now that I'm responsible for your safety."

The prince tilts his head again. "But you're not. That's Georgia's job."

Jack finishes helping the prince dress for bed in silence, mulling his words over. After he ushers the prince into bed, he settles on the side of the bed, thinking.

The prince seems content to wait.

Finally, Jack looks up at him. "Why did you ask for me, Your Highness?"

"Because you were the first person that let me be me."

Jack blinks. It's more honesty than he's ever expected from the prince. So he smooths down the prince's blond hair and nods, his decision made. "Good night, Eric."

Eric's smile is tired, but pleased. "Good night, Jack."

It's not that Eric doesn't understand what it means to be king, Jack realizes. It's that he already understands it too well, and knows that he won't—perhaps can't—be the same kind of king as his father.

Jack's a little stunned by how certain he already is that Eric will be a kinder king than his father, who conquered lands by force and will. Eric has none of that in his temperament, that's apparent from just a week with him. And yet, it makes Jack even more certain that he will protect Eric, if only because he knows that no one else will.

Jack goes to Kent's room in the barracks before he makes his way home that night. He knocks on the door, and Kent answers, his eyes cold as they flick automatically to Jack's uniform. "Squire," he spits, vitriol in his tone.

"Kent," he answers neutrally. "I am going to serve my prince, and I am going to do so with or without your friendship. But I would much rather do it with."

Kent blinks, looking surprised.

"The prince is a different man than his father, and the King's Guard will not be what it has been under his rule. But I want to be a part of that, and I'd like you to join me. I want you there, Kent."

Kent tilts his head to the side, thinking. Then, slowly, he nods. "Alright. You got it."

Jack leaves feeling lighter than he has since he first donned his squire's uniform.

——

It's not so much that things go back to normal after that so much as that Jack adjusts to the new normal his life has become. He's honest with Eric in a way that he never had to be with Kent. He and Kent were raised almost in each other's pockets and see the world in almost the same way. There are important people that need to be protected and there are people that do the protecting. He and Kent fall into the latter group, while Eric… Well, Eric doesn't seem to always understand just how important he is. Jack questions Eric every time he tries to slip away to the kitchens, waits for an answer that Eric doesn't give, and follows diligently with nothing but a nod and a wave to Georgia.

He meets March and April, the two girls who work with their mothers in the kitchens and were, Jack learns, Eric's first friends. They're warm and open in a way that Jack has seen Eric try to emulate, even as he always holds himself just a little away from them, unsure how to be the kind of people they are. It makes something in Jack's chest ache for Eric and the kind of childhood he has had.

Jack knows he can't make up for it completely, but he does his best, wanting to foster what he can tell are the best parts of Eric. He accompanies the prince to the kitchens and takes him on walks through the gardens with Georgia keeping a respectful distance from the pair of them as they talk, speaking of Jack's training and of Eric's, of the progression of their friendship and of the changes in the countryside as the days pass. It's comfortable, warm and familiar in a way Jack's never experienced in his friendship with Kent.

He likes it more than he cares to admit.

——

That isn't to say that it's always easy. The other squires won't talk to him, confident that he's only been allowed to become a squire so young because of his father, and the pages he's spent his life training with won't talk to him, jealous that he's been able to rise through the ranks so quickly. Soon enough, no one under the age of seventeen will talk to him except Kent and Eric. March and April twitter and giggle in his presence, but neither of them seem to have any interest in more than a passing acquaintanceship.

It leaves Jack uneasy at the best of times, tense and irritable at the worst of times, and he finds himself snapping at anyone that feels the need to remark on his performance. It winds him tighter and tighter, walking a tightrope between what's expected of him as the Major General's son and what Eric needs. It's exhausting.

He does his best not to let on to Eric that he's upset, wanting to do his father proud, but Eric catches on soon enough. He asks Jack about it one day when they're down in the kitchens, Eric working on something while Jack does whatever Eric tells him to do to help.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

Jack thinks carefully about his answer, wanting to keep the honesty between them that Eric so values. "I don't like the way people look at me now, and that happened because you asked for me when you asked for a new guard."

Eric's shoulders slump. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think of that."

Jack looks at him for a long moment. His next words are the easiest he's said in ages. "I know you didn't," he starts out honestly, "And that awareness is something that you could work on. But it's not your fault, Eric," he adds as Eric starts to droop the way he does whenever Jack critiques him. "It's theirs. If they don't understand what you need, then they're not worth my time either."

Eric turns to him, surprise in his eyes. "Jack?"

"I serve you, Eric. This has always been where my path would lead. I wouldn't have it any other way."

This time, the smile doesn't quite reach Eric's eyes, but Jack takes it as the peace offering it is.

——

A season passes, and they grow close enough that Jack sees it the moment the restlessness starts to make its way into Eric's demeanor. The morning he comes in to see Eric already dressed and preparing an escape, he's not as surprised as he thinks he should be.

"Eric," Jack says, trying to imbue as much sternness into his voice as he can.

Eric winces. "Morning, Jack."

Jack sighs, idly turning an empty cup on Eric's table on its head. Then he crosses the room and opens Eric's wardrobe, pulling out a heavier coat. "If you're going to go out in this weather, at least dress for it."

When he turns back to Eric, Eric is eyeing the cup that Jack had turned over with confusion in his eyes.

Jack swallows down a lump in his throat and crosses the room, settling the coat over Eric's shoulders. "Where to, Eric?"

Eric's answering grin is just as mischievous as the one he'd given Jack the first day they met.

Jack follows Eric dutifully out the window into the unattended room below and through the secret passage that leads them out onto the grounds. Eric leads him into town, and Jack remembers that the last time he'd failed to catch Eric on one of his excursions he'd come back loaded to the teeth with everything he needed to make one of his great grandmother's pies. "The market?" he asks.

Eric nods. "It's my mother's birthday tomorrow. I thought…." He swallows. "I thought she might like something to remind her of Moo Maw."

Jack smiles, ruffling Eric's hair affectionately. "I think she'd like that a lot." And he does. He's spent enough time with the queen lately that he feels like he knows her well enough to say that with certainty, and enough time with Eric to know it's what he needs.

It isn't until they've spent almost three hours at the market while Eric picks out everything he needs for whatever he's planning on making for his mother that Eric brings it up. "That cup you turned over in my room. That was a signal to Georgia, wasn't it?"

Jack winces. "How'd you guess?"

"I haven't seen a single guard do a double take watching us out here. That means there's been no alert sent out to find me."

Jack nods. "Are you angry?"

Eric picks up an apple, testing the firmness idly. "I guess not," he says. "I mostly just want to know why."

"Georgia and your father know you need more freedom than they've given you in the past, but you also have responsibilities. A future that they have to plan for. As long as they know you have someone watching out for you, they're okay with letting you out and about from time to time."

"Which is where you come in."

"Which is where I come in."

Eric stares at the apple in his hand for a moment longer. Then he nods decisively, handing it to Jack before handing the woman at the stand a few coins. "Come on," Eric says, voice warmer than it has been so far this morning. "We still have a lot to buy."

——

Jack's thirteen the first time someone tries to hurt Eric on his watch. Eric comes out of the encounter physically unscathed thanks to Jack's training, but Jack himself isn't so lucky, left with a deep, thick gash on his right thigh from a poorly deflected sword strike. It puts him out of action for several weeks, during which Eric insists on coming to visit every day, diligent and worried every time.

It's also leaves him with the first of what he knows will be many scars he will earn in the prince's employ.

Part of him wants to wear the wound like a badge of honor, but the rest knows that he shouldn't be proud of what it took to keep Eric safe. It's his job to make sure any area is secure before he lets the prince in, and he'd failed that this time. He knows his duties, knows what's expected of him, but knowing isn't enough. He needs to act too, because if he doesn't act, then. Well. If he doesn't, then Eric may not be so lucky next time.

He deserves the scar he will bear for being so cocky.

"You don't deserve any of that!" Eric shouts when Jack says as much to him his first week back, Eric's voice shrill and sharp in a way that Jack's never heard. "You don't—" Eric makes a frustrated sort of sound in the back of his throat before deflating. "I don't want you getting hurt for me."

"But that's my job, Eric," Jack says softly, unclear on what about this is confusing to the prince. "That's why I'm here."

Eric bites his lip and looks away. "I don't have to like it."

Jack watches him for a long time before he reaches out, brushing Eric's bangs from his forehead. "No, Your Highness. I don't suppose you do." He tugs on a lock of Eric's hair until the prince turns back to look at him. "You wouldn't be Eric if you did."

——

The night before Kent earns his squire's uniform, he comes over to Jack's house and charms his way in with a smile and a laugh that Jack should be more used to than he is. He remembers a time when that smile followed him everywhere, when that laugh reverberated off the walls of his room constantly.

Now, Jack can't remember the last time that he had Kent in his room.

Kent stops short at the doorway, hovering like he's not sure he's going to be allowed in. Jack feels the same uncertainty, so he gets to his feet and meets Kent at the door.

"Look," Kent starts, sounding nervous and uncertain, "I know you've been a squire for ages now, but. But you're coming tomorrow. Right? I mean, it was supposed to be your ceremony too."

Jack finds himself nodding before Kent's even finished. "Yeah. Yeah, Kent, I'll be there. If. If you want me to."

Kent grins back, wide and pleased. "Good. That's good." His grin turns ever so slightly bitter at his next words. "Gotta show you that even a lowborn like me can make it."

Jack frowns. "You know I never cared about that."

"Yeah," Kent agrees, anger in every line of his face. "You were the only one."

"Kent—"

Kent shrugs off the hand that Jack had put on his shoulder. "It's. You know. It's whatever." He plasters on a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

Jack starts to nod, but stops himself short. "You, uh. You wanna come in?"

Kent's smile melts into a real grin, and he slips past Jack into the room, flopping back on Jack's bed and stretching out. Jack laughs, sitting down next to him. Kent kicks lightly at Jack's hip. "So, what's new in the castle? Do you ever get to see the king? What's that like? Tell me everything."

——

The seasons turn and turn and turn. Kent grows into his squire's uniform and finds his way back into Jack's life, Jack gathers more scars and comes up with increasingly elaborate signals to let Georgia know when he's taking Eric out on one of their excursions, and Eric grows slowly into the prince he was always going to become. He's appropriately restrained in public forums, appropriately cordial with visiting royalty, appropriately respectful of everything that comes with the crown he will one day wear.

At least, that is, until Duchess Larissa makes her way to court weeks before Eric's tenth birthday.

The two are fast friends in a way that Jack has never seen in his prince before. It sets a strange sort of discomfort in his chest as he stands beside the Duchess' guard watching the pair of them. At least, he feels strange until Eric turns to him, eyes wide and bright and filled with such sheer _joy_ that Jack melts a little where he stands.

The Duchess' guard—Knight, and Jack would laugh at the name if he weren't a little jealous of it—elbows him. "Good to see them getting on so well, isn't it?"

Jack nods back, a tiny smile on his face. "It really is. Your Duchess a bit solitary too?"

Knight snorts. "Extremely. Well-liked," he's quick to add, "but extremely solitary. It's hard to imagine, isn't it? What it's like to know that people are depending on you like that."

Jack hums. He has people depending on him too—he's supposed to earn his knight's reds within the year if he wants to stay on with Eric, and he knows Eric's depending on him to earn them, that Eric is trusting him with his life every time they leave the castle walls—but he knows it's not the same.

"They need someone like each other in their lives."

Jack tries not to notice the way Knight sounds like he's trying to convince himself just as much as Jack.

——

Larissa stays with them into the fall, and becomes a near constant in the castle during the spring and summer after that, for which Jack is just as grateful as Eric. He and Knight—who for some reason refuses to tell Jack his first name—become fast friends, much to Kent's chagrin.

"Come on, Jack," Kent goads him on the night of Jack's sixteenth birthday. "We were supposed to be brothers-in-arms, you know? Fight at each other's side forever. What's this poser got that I don't?"

"Nothing," Jack says, surprised and more than a little hurt at the slight on Knight's honor. "He's just." Jack swallows. "He understands what it's like to be responsible for someone's safety all the time."

Kent's eyes go dark the same way they do every time Jack's position with Eric comes up. "Right," he says, voice quiet. "Yeah, I guess I don't know what that's like."

When Kent leaves that night, Jack can't shake the vague feeling that he should have apologized for something.

It's another year before he first learns how much he's hurt Kent.

——

Jack's father comes into Jack's room in the barracks one dawn just over two years after Jack's knighting ceremony with a grim look on his face. He settles down in front of Jack, hands clenched tight between his knees.

"Jack," he says quietly. "We need to talk."

Jack sits up straight in bed, knowing instinctively that he's in trouble. He wishes he had his knight's reds on, if only for the illusion of protection they offered him. "What is it, Papa?"

"No one was supposed to know about the king's departure this morning aside from those of us accompanying him. You and Eric were told, of course, as was the queen and her handmaiden. But no one else was supposed to know." Jack nods; he knows this.

"Did you tell anyone?"

Jack blinks. "Just Kent. I figured he should know why I wouldn't be around for training today."

Robert lets out a long, low sigh, his head dropping down to hang against his chest. "I see."

"Papa, what happened?"

"Go to the prince, Jack. He needs you right now."

Jack's out of bed and dressed in an instant.

——

Jack is directed not to the prince's chamber as he had expected, but to the king's. Something in him knows what he's going to find when he crosses the threshold, but he takes a solid minute standing outside the wide double doors before he finds the strength to push them open.

Eric is knelt at his father's bedside, his hands wrapped around one of the king's while the doctor and his apprentice tend to him. Eric looks up the moment Jack comes in. As soon as he registers who it is, he rushed to Jack's side, throwing his arms around Jack's shoulders and shaking with suppressed tears.

Jack wraps his arms around the prince without thinking even as his mind puts two and two together.

Kent did this.

Kent tried to kill the king.

Kent tried to kill _Eric's father_.

It doesn't feel real. But there's no other possibility.

Jack goes rigid and Eric looks up at him, eyes searching Jack's face. He draws back, pain and betrayal in every line of his face. "Jack. You…?"

Jack closes his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness."

Eric steps back as though burned. " _You_ —"

And Jack realizes what Eric is thinking, and he has to erase those fears. He fights the need to reach out to Eric, needing to say this while he still has the strength to. "Kent," he admits, and some of the tension falls out of Eric's shoulders. "But I told him."

Eric's shoulders go tight again. "Jack—"

Jack drops to one knee, a tense, fraught parody of what he'd done the first time they'd met. He again offers the hilt of his sword to Eric. "If Your Highness—"

"No." Jack blinks and looks up at Eric, disbelief in his bones. Eric stands tall and regal before him, looking older than his twelve years would suggest. "No, Jack. Trust is difficult to earn and easy to break. You have not broken my trust this day. But someone has broken yours."

"He has."

"Then I will enact whatever punishment you deem necessary."

Jack gets slowly to his feet, meeting Eric's eyes where he stands, a head and a half shorter than Jack, and firmness in every line of his body.

Jack nods.

——

Eric insists that Jack stay behind when the Guard goes to collect Kent from the barracks, and Jack isn't sure if he's angry or grateful. It's not that he and Kent have had a perfect friendship, but they were friends, knew each other better than most, and part of Jack feels responsible for not seeing the warning signs. He should be forced to watch Kent carted off to serve his punishment.

On the other hand, it lets Jack berate himself in peace and solitude.

So he lets Eric send him off to wait in the prince's chambers while Georgia escorts Eric to the courtyard where the punishment will be doled out. He's too far away to hear if Kent screams, with too many thick walls separating them, and that may be the only saving grace of the whole thing. Jack almost can't breathe with the knowledge of what he's brought on Kent—what Kent's brought on himself—and as the hours pass and Jack finds himself reconciling more and more of what he knows about Kent with this new reality, it also becomes harder to forgive himself for not standing his ground with Eric when it came to Kent's punishment. His mind twists and twists and twists until he can barely see through his certainty that this is his fault alone.

Eric finds Jack standing in Eric's bedroom hours later, arms wrapped tight around himself while he watches Kent—thoroughly beaten and broken—being taken away by the Guard. Eric wraps his arms around Jack from behind, pressing his face into the middle of Jack's back. It loosens the tension in Jack's chest, but not enough to forget his certainty that this is his fault and his resolution that he shouldn't have backed down.

"You should have had him killed," Jack says viciously.

"You would never have been able to forgive yourself if you had let me do that."

"He tried to kill your father."

"And my father will be fine. He's a strong man, and the doctors stopped the bleeding fast enough."

Jack sighs, turning to face Eric. "I still don't see why you didn't let me come to the flogging."

Eric tilts his head to the side, an amused sort of fondness on his face. "Because you would have gone up there and killed him yourself. I couldn't have my personal knight doing that, now could I?"

Jack huffs out a tired sort of laugh and shakes his head at Eric. "No. No, I don't suppose you could have that." Jack reaches out, brushing Eric's bangs from his forehead. "Your kindness is going to be the death of you one day, Highness."

"Perhaps," Eric says, a small, sad smile on his face. "But I'd rather die by a code of kindness than live by a code of hate."

Jack leans forward, pressing his forehead against Eric's shoulder. "You're going to be a great king one day," he says, voice soft and reverent.

Eric waits until Jack pulls back to respond, pressing a soft kiss to Jack's forehead before he speaks. "Only because I have you at my side to keep me safe."

Jack swears to himself then and there that he always will be.

——

Without Kent, Jack finds himself increasingly aware of how few knights are willing to train with him. He'd never realized just how secluded he and Kent had been, Jack because of his father, and Kent because of his lowborn status. Jack had forgotten the ache of constant seclusion in the years after Kent began his apprenticeship, close as they had become. It had been easier, then, to forget how the other pages had regarded Kent with skepticism, brought to them as payment for his father's wrongs as he had been.

Now, that skepticism seems to have been well-founded.

When he arrives late in the prince's chambers one morning just over a week after Kent's dismissal, Eric's already dressed and toying with his food. Jack swallows, an excuse about oversleeping already on his tongue, when Eric gets to his feet, taking both of Jack's hands in his and turning them over to reveal the raw skin on his palms.

"How long have you been up already?" Eric asks, voice quiet and soft.

Jack squeezes his eyes shut, ashamed and nervous about the admonishment he's sure is coming. "Hours," he finally rasps out.

Eric doesn't respond for a long moment. Finally he lets out a soft sigh and ushers Jack over to the table. There's a jar of ointment on the table that Eric starts applying to Jack's hands, fingers soft and careful with each touch.

Jack's long since given up reminding the prince that it's his job to take care of Eric, not the other way around.

"You have nothing to prove to me, Jack," Eric finally says, stilling with his fingers in the center of Jack's palm. "You have always been loyal, stronger and braver than I ever could have hoped, and a better man than anyone else I've ever known."

Jack's throat feels tight. "I should have seen it. Kent may have been a comrade, but he was lowborn. He had no ties to the Crown other than his word. And what is that word worth if he has no honor? I should have _known_."

Eric looks up sharply at Jack. "You should have known not to trust the only friend you had?"

Jack blinks. Put like that, it does feel rather foolish.

"You're a good person, Jack," Eric insists. "I wouldn't have wanted you to not trust him because of his status. You can't know another's heart until they show it to you."

Jack snorts. "Which one of your tutors told you that?"

Eric's answering grin is full of cheek. It falls off his face after a moment, though, and he grows serious again. "I don't want you to judge anyone that comes into this castle on anything other than their actions. Can you promise me that?"

Jack considers it for a moment before shaking his head. "I cannot. My job is to keep you safe, Eric," he insists quietly when Eric opens his mouth to protest, "and if I have word that anyone entering this castle is anything less than completely trustworthy, I will be on my guard. I will do whatever I have to do in order to keep you safe, Highness."

Eric's face has gone from irritated to fondly exasperated. "I'm not going to convince you otherwise, am I?"

"No," Jack agrees, certain about his place in Eric's orbit. "No, you're not."

——

The seasons turn, raw palms become callused, and soon enough Larissa and Knight are back. With Knight at his side encouraging him to even greater heights, Jack earns his Lieutenant's stripe within a year of Kent's dismissal from the Guard. Two seasons later he has his Captain's stripes, and he earns his Major's star just after his twentieth birthday. The rise through the ranks is everything Jack's been striving for, everything he's known he was meant for, but it leaves an ache in his chest, a burning in his stomach, urging him forward to greater and greater heights. He needs to keep Eric safe, needs to protect him, and to do that, he needs to be the best. He gains a grudging respect in the barracks for his skills in their own right as opposed to simply being his father's son, and it makes something in him settle to know that this is something that he has done with his own power and not his name, even as it leaves him off-balance, because it's not enough. Not yet.

Eric just teases him that he'll become Major General before Eric has time to become king.

Jack doesn't believe a word of it. As the years have passed, Eric has only grown more and more regal, surrounding himself with the wisest of his father's advisors and their apprentices. He's tempered his flights of fancy and Jack has found himself attending more and more of the strategy meetings that the king holds with Eric. It becomes altogether too easy for Jack to see Eric as king one day, and Jack finds himself deferring to Eric instead of the king when he receives his orders.

His father has never looked prouder than the day he waited for Eric's dismissal to follow an order from the king.

——

Camilla has been a courtier for years, but it isn't until the fall after Jack's twentieth birthday when Knight elbows him in the ribs and nods over at Camilla during a function they're all required to attend that it occurs to Jack that she is rather beautiful, and that he himself should be looking for a wife.

At Knight's gentle encouragement, he begins courting her the next week. She's receptive to his overtures, and seems a good enough match, well accustomed to the ways of court and comfortable being close to the king. The courtship progresses easily, and Jack's father seems pleased.

It takes less than a month for Jack to realize that someone else isn't as happy about the match.

Eric's been brooding and moody for the last few weeks, and it only takes a stern look from Jack at the look of panic on Captain Birkholtz's face for Jack to learn that Eric has spent the last three days trying to wrangle the latest escape signal out of him.

Jack sighs, making his way into Eric's room where he's seated in bed, arms crossed, clearly having heard what Adam and Jack were discussing outside. He settles down on the bed beside Eric, not looking at him and not speaking. They have nowhere they need to be today, and Jack's always been the more patient of the two of them.

"I don't like her," Eric finally admits, holding his arms tighter to his chest defensively.

Jac frowns, wracking his brain to determine who Eric's talking about. When he realizes who it must be, he turns to Eric in surprise. "Camilla?"

Eric just purses his lips and looks away from Jack.

" _Why_?"

Eric holds his posture for a moment longer before all the fight goes out of him, and he slumps a little beside Jack. "It's not her," Eric concedes, ever the diplomat.

"Okay," Jack says, confused. "Then what is it?"

"I just." Eric swallows, then turns to Jack with wide, scared eyes. "I've been the most important person in your life for eight years, Jack. I don't want that to go away."

Jack pulls Eric into a hug without thinking, holding his prince to him tightly. "You're always going to be the most important person in my life, Eric," he swears, feeling every scar he's earned in Eric's service throb in agreement. "Always."

Eric reaches up to cling to him, shaking and crying even as he tries to regain his composure. "Promise?" he chokes out.

Jack clings to him even tighter. "Promise."

Jack breaks off his courtship that same day.

——

It feels like Jack blinks and the prince is getting ready to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. He knows that's ridiculous; that in the past three years Knight has joined the King's Guard and he and his Duchess have come to live in the castle, that Jack himself has earned his Colonel's stars in that time, that his father and the king are already making preparations for his next promotion and for Eric's ascension.

And yet, all Jack can see some days is the boy that had stood tall before him, six years old, and proclaimed that he wasn't a king yet.

But Jack knows that that will all change tomorrow, on Eric's eighteenth birthday.

Because tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day that Eric's own courtship begins.

Jack knows that Eric and Larissa love each other dearly, knows that they would rather spend their lives with each other than with anyone else the whims of the court might place them with. But Eric has spoken to Jack about his reluctance to be with Larissa, knowing that she's in love with someone else.

"She's told me about him, Jack. And I know they'd be a better match than she and I."

Jack can't fathom anyone being a better match than Eric.

Eric seems to see what Jack's thinking and shoves at him playfully. "You know what I mean." He sobers, looking down at the meal the two of them are sharing in a rare private evening. "She loves him. And I…"

Eric doesn't finish his thought, turning back to his food, leaving Jack to watch him thoughtfully.

"Do you love her?"

"Yes," Eric answers honestly. "But not as a husband should love his wife."

Jack turns to his own food, trying to organize his thoughts. There's a reason Eric is going to be king one day and not Jack. "You love your kingdom too, Eric."

Eric straightens at that, looking at Jack in wonderment.

"You love your kingdom, Eric," Jack insists, "and you would do anything for your kingdom and her people. If there is one thing that I have learned over these last eleven years, it is that."

Eric stares at Jack for a long time, and Jack wonders briefly if he's overstepped his bounds. But then Eric deflates, laughing at a joke that Jack doesn't understand. "Yes," Eric says softly. "Yes, I suppose I do."

They finish their meal in silence. Jack dresses Eric for bed and Eric kisses his temple before he leaves, one of the ever diminishing shows of affection that Eric will offer him, even in private.

"Good night, Jack."

Jack waits until Eric is in bed to set a small parcel on his table. "Happy birthday, Eric."

——

It isn't until Jack watches Eric announce his pending courtship with Larissa the next morning that Jack realizes he doesn't want to lose Eric. It's a twisting sensation in every fiber of his body as he watches the late spring sun reflect across Eric's hair, and he knows—he _knows_ —nothing will ever be the same after today.

It's why he almost misses the arrow pointed right at Eric's chest.

The second he sees the arrow, time slows down, and it's only years of practice that have him moving in reaction to the threat. He steps between Eric and the shooter just in time, taking the shot through his shoulder and gasping through the pain while he hears Knight and Larissa yelling for a doctor. It's been a while since Jack got hurt on the job—he's usually _better_ than this, and this; this isn't the _time_ —but it's happened enough that he knows how to force down the pain and focus on the issue at hand.

It's the new tinge that the deep well of fear for Eric's life has taken on that's harder to swallow.

Jack fights through the pain and shakes off the fear, trying to focus only on the shooter, who's drawing another arrow and aiming straight for Eric again. Jack hears the command that he shouts, watches as Birkholtz and Nurse leap into action to take down the attacker, but not before he lets loose one more shot. But Jack's ready this time, and pulls both Eric and himself out of the path of the shot, letting it embed itself in the stone behind them.

The second he knows the threat is contained, Jack turns to his prince and lets his whole being focus on Eric. There's a stunned look on Eric's face while Jack grips his arms tight. "Are you alright?"

Eric schools his expression immediately. "I'm fine, Colonel."

Jack stares back at Eric.

It's the only time he's ever called Jack by his title in the eleven years they've stood at each other's side.

Somehow, that hurts more than the arrow in his shoulder.

——

Jack thanks William as he finishes patching Jack up, leaving him in Knight's care.

Knight settles down across from him, his eyes sharp on Jack. "What happened today?"

"I don't know what you're—"

"Don't play stupid with me, Zimmermann," Knight snaps, cutting him off. "You didn't have even the vaguest idea that that marksman was there until he shot. Normally you can spot something like that a mile away. So what gives?"

Jack looks away, pulling a shirt on over his shoulders to cover the bandages wrapping his shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it."

That seems to take Knight by surprise. "Jack—"

"Please, Knight. Don't ask me that."

Knight stares at him for a long time. When he finally speaks, it's the words that Jack's been dreading. "You're in love with him."

Jack closes his eyes, his whole body going tight for a split second. It's the feeling of being trapped, of staring down an arrow's shaft, of being balanced on a turret and staring out at the distance he still has left to fall, and for a second he can't breathe. He's been _caught_ , someone knows now exactly how ill-equipped Jack is to protect the prince, and it's everything he's feared since his father handed him his squire's uniform eleven years ago.

But this is Knight, the man that's stood at his side for years, and all at once Jack droops, all the tension pouring out of him.

"Yes."

Knight reaches out, hand on Jack's knee. "You need to tell him."

Jack feels himself curl in on himself even tighter. "I can't, Knight. Even if he feels the same way—"

"He does; Larissa—"

"Even _if_ he loves me," Jack says, cutting Knight off, "he loves his kingdom more than he could ever love me. I can't give him an heir. I can't be his queen. I can't rule at his side. Larissa can."

Knight stares at him, eyes wide and hurt.

"I can't."

"…Alright. What do you need?"

Jack looks up at Knight, steeling himself for what he has to say. He's known it since the arrow pierced his stomach. "Camilla. I need Camilla."

——

"This is stupid," Knight says for the fifth time in the last hour.

Jack sighs. "Your opinion is duly noted."

"No, seriously Jack, you've come up with some stupid plans, but this one takes the cake."

Jack clenches his hands into fists. "Do you have a better solution?"

"Than pretending you've been courting Camilla in secret for the last three years? Yes, I have several, starting with—"

"I am not telling the prince that I am in love with him," Jack says, his voice the sort of firm that lets Knight know that's the end of the conversation. He turns to Camilla. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Camilla's face softens, and she reaches up to cup Jack's face in her hand. "I will do whatever you think we need to do to keep His Highness safe. But are you sure now is the best time?"

Jack reaches up to cup his hand over Camilla's. "He isn't safe under my protection anymore. We have to do this now, or risk losing him forever."

Camilla sighs, letting her hand fall from Jack's face and stepping back. "If you're sure."

"I am."

——

Jack goes to his father with the admission, too ashamed of resorting to this alleged deceit and too afraid of backing out to go to Eric.

Robert frowns down at his son. "Jack," he says softly, "if this is because of what happened at the courtship announcement—"

"It is, but not for the reason you're thinking. I'm distracted by Camilla, and a liability on the prince's staff. He needs someone that can be trusted. That person isn't me anymore."

Robert sighs. "Alright, Jack. You know what I have to do."

Jack reaches for his Colonel's stars, removes them, and holds them out to his father. "I do."

Jack doesn't let himself see the pain on his father's face as he accepts the stars.

——

It takes hours for him to fall asleep that night. He knows that he made the right call, that getting out of Eric's life was the only way to keep him safe, and he wouldn't take back his decision even if he could.

Most of him wishes he could take back loving Eric, could go back to his blessed ignorance, could go on protecting him as nothing more than a friend and confidant, could go on watching him grow into the king he will become. It would be easier that way, to follow in his father's footsteps the way he'd expected to, the way he'd always wanted to. He'd always thought that would be enough, that keeping Eric alive and safe would be all he needed. Now, though, he knows that that may never have been enough for him.

In the late hours near dawn, though, he comes to a realization. A tiny part of him is actually relieved. He wishes he wasn't, but he's relieved. Eric is safe, yes, but his safety is also out of Jack's hands. It's a selfish kind of relief, but it's there, damning and sure in his chest. It's both a welcome and an unwanted balm on the ache in his heart, and it gives him a few hours of blissful, dreamless sleep.

——

Eric finds him in the barracks the next day, his face red and angry. "What is going on, Jack? Why is—" Eric cuts himself off when Jack drops to one knee in front of him. His voice is soft and breathless when he speaks next. "What's going on?"

"I've been removed from my position, Your Highness."

" _Why_?"

"That is between me and the Major General."

"Is that why Chris—"

"Yes," Jack says, unable to hear the rest of Eric's sentence and ready to risk a lashing for it.

What Jack isn't ready for is the slap that Eric levels across his face.

Jack turns slowly back to look at Eric, shaken to his core by the tears in Eric's eyes.

"I _trusted_ you." Eric's voice cracks on the word, and Jack knows that there's no coming back from this. He looks up into Eric's eyes, wanting nothing more than to take it all back, to promise Eric that Jack will never leave his side, to tell him that he only came up with this ridiculous scheme to keep Eric safe.

But the still-healing wound in his shoulder twinges, reminding him why he has to do this. So he schools his expression and keeps his eyes on Eric's face.

When it becomes clear that no further clarification is forthcoming, Eric chokes down a sob and turns on his heel, storming away from the barracks.

Jack can only watch him go.

——

The summer passes too slowly for Jack's comfort. He watches from afar as Eric courts Larissa and the people fall more and more in love with their future queen. She's the best thing to happen to the kingdom since Eric himself was born, and Jack knows that he would only have stood in the way.

Stepping aside was the only thing he could have done. He'd do it again in a heartbeat knowing it will keep Eric safe.

No regrets.

He just hopes that one day he'll believe it.

——

Even demoted to Captain, removed from his position, and on the opposite side of the banquet hall, Jack can't keep his eyes off of the prince. Off of Eric. Because everything he did— _everything_ —was for his prince, and even knowing the consequences, he'd do it again in a heartbeat if given the choice. Because Eric—the prince—isn't safe with someone as blind and foolish as Jack by his side, and the most important thing in the world is the prince's safety.

Besides, he and Camilla had known what they were getting into.

So Jack stands, tall and sure at the entrance to the banquet hall, the newly minted Major Knight to his right, the wide open hall to his left, and the light reflecting off the prince's hair catching in the corner of Jack's eyes. Jack stands, and fights the urge to turn to look at the prince—at Eric—every chance he gets. Jack stands, and does his job. Jack stands, and hopes that Knight was right about Chris. Because if he wasn't—

Well. That isn't really up to Jack anymore.

Knight sighs softly next to him, and Jack winces. He hadn't thought his worrying was obvious enough to draw Knight's attention, but apparently it had been more than enough. They've been friends long enough that Jack shouldn't be surprised. Jack bites his tongue on an apology that Knight will only wave off and straightens his back.

"Jack," Knight says softly, but Jack shakes his head.

"Not now." He knows he'll get shit about it tonight, but in the meantime—

He catches it out of the corner of his eye. The eye that he won't admit is still being drawn to the prince near constantly. Eleven years of habit are hard to break. The movement is only ever so slightly out of the ordinary, shoulders only slightly hunched, eyes only slightly skittish, but eleven years at the prince's side have taught him how to notice a threat.

He reacts without thinking, tearing across the room, his throat too tight to call out a warning to Eric, but Eric reacts to his motion just like he always did, turning toward him, eyes wide and confused, and then, a split second later, hard and certain.

It only makes Jack move faster.

Even so, he's too slow. And unlike the rest of the room, oblivious to what's about to happen, he's subjected to the twisted pain on Eric's face before he schools it. To the certainty and resignation that replaces the pain before he finds the strength to throw off his attacker. To the horror on Larissa's face when she realizes what's just happened.

Then Larissa screams and everything happens at once.

There's chaos and screaming around him, but Jack is only aware of Knight is at his back as he draws his sword and leaps over the banquet table, driving his blade toward the attacker in one smooth motion and coming up against a short blade and a terrifyingly familiar smirk.

" _Kent?_ "

"Jack."

Jack whites out, rage filling every fiber of his body, and when he comes back to himself, Kent is on his knees, smirking up at Jack through bloody teeth.

"So that's how it's gonna be?"

"I know where my loyalty lies," Jack hisses, the grip of Kent's short blade in his hand and the tip pressed against Kent's adam's apple, the threat thick and heavy in the air.

Kent's answering glare is just as fierce. "And I know where mine lies."

"And where is that?"

Kent just smirks again, and Jack feels sick. "With the revolution."

Jack presses the blade harder against Kent's throat, but he only tips his head back, still meeting Jack's eyes head on. "How long?"

"From the beginning. I was never going to be one of you. I knew it, your father knew it, the other knights all knew it. You seemed to be the only one that didn't."

Jack feels his chest go tight. "So, what? I never meant anything to you?"

For the first time, Kent's cocky certainty falters.

But then Knight's at his side, pressing his own blade against Kent's throat in turn and speaking in a low voice to Jack. "Go, Jack."

Jack blinks, turning his head toward Knight, but not taking his eyes off of Kent. "Major, I take full responsibility for my actions, but if you're asking me—"

"Jack," Knight says, voice stern but gentle, "he's dying."

Jack's whole body goes cold at the affirmation and all he wants is to drive the blade in his hand through Kent's throat, but Knight's words stops him short.

"Go to him, Jack. It might be the last chance you get."

Jack turns away from Kent and Knight and runs, full tilt, back to the prince.

Back to Eric.

The queen has Eric's head in her lap, Larissa kneeling at his side, both of them shaking and terrified, surrounded by a loose circle made up of the guests that haven't already been escorted out. Jack can only assume that the king is getting the doctor.

He steps toward the group, his shoes breaking the quiet murmur that has descended on the room while Eric lies prone on the ground, struggling with each gasp. The queen is shushing him gently, clearly trying to ease her own fear as much as her son's pain.

But it's Larissa that Eric's looking at, his eyes clear and bright in a way that Jack wishes wasn't familiar.

"You promise me, Duchess. You promise me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Dicky," the queen murmurs, and Jack can see her fingers shaking as they ghost through his hair. "Your father—"

"Mother." Eric's voice is calm and regal and everything that Jack hates to love about him. Because this side of Eric—the damn selfless, self-sacrificing side of him—is what had finally rubbed off on Jack enough to force him to walk away. And if Jack hadn't walked away—

Jack stops that thought short.

"You promise me, Larissa."

Jack can see the Duchess nod, can hear her voice shake. "I will carry your legacy, Highness."

It sets a stone dropping in Jack's stomach.

He steels himself and steps into the loose circle around the prince, feeling the lead in his shoes and in his heart as he steps close enough to finally see the damage.

The right side of Eric's robes is coated in thick, dark blood, and Jack could be sick from the sight. Not the blood itself, but the blood in combination with the sickly pallor of Eric's skin. Because if everything was for Eric, then right now, everything might have been for nothing.

Larissa catches sight of Jack in the circle and half rises to her feet, eyes bright and sharp on him, before she jerks to a stop, turning back to where Eric has her hand clutched tight in his. "Eric—" she starts, but the prince cuts her off.

"You do right by yourself too, Larissa. You promise me that too."

Jack can't see the look on Larissa's face, can only see the way Eric's face relaxes at whatever he sees on hers as she settles back to her knees.

The queen catches sight of Jack, and turns toward him, eyes wide, "Jack—" she starts, but whatever she want to say seems to die in her throat as she remembers where they are, remembers what he's done.

Jack only has eyes for the way Eric squeezes his shut before reopening them and turning them on Larissa. He reaches a hand up to her face, pulling her in close and pressing their foreheads together. His lips are trembling, and Jack can feel everything Eric won't say— _I'm scared; I don't want to die; I want to live_ —and everything that he feels that he can't say, royal and dignified, lying on the cold stone floor of the banquet hall with his subjects surrounding him. Jack can see it in the shaking of his hand and the tremble of his lips and the pinching of his eyes.

Jack can feel the way the world is hanging, suspended in the moment, and wants nothing more than for it to continue forever, if only because he knows he's never again getting more of Eric than this.

Then Eric sighs, the breath forcing itself out of his chest as his hand slips from Larissa's face and his head falls to the side. For a split second, his eyes catch on Jack's, everything he never said somehow passing between them in that single glance.

The world stops.

Jack is torn between being unable to move more than a step further away from Eric and the need to go rip Kent's throat out with his bare hands.

It isn't until Nurse pulls him to his feet and hauls him out of the hall that Jack realizes the broken, anguished screaming was coming from him.

He throws Nurse off once they're a safe enough distance from the banquet hall and turns to the newly minted Captain, his eyes bright and his teeth sharp.

"Where's Parson?"

But Nurse holds his ground. "Major Knight—"

Jack surges forward, throwing Nurse up against the wall. "I asked you a question, Captain."

Nurse's eyes are just as firm. "And I have my orders, Captain."

Jack steps back, the still-fresh title a slap in the face that has him releasing Nurse from the wall.

Nurse steps forward, a hand on Jack's elbow in unspoken support. "I'm sorry, Jack. I know you and the prince were—"

"Nothing," Jack says, looking at the entrance to the banquet hall and knowing he no longer has a place there. "The prince and I were nothing."

——

Knight is the one that tells him it was a spell.

The second Nurse had moved to return to the banquet hall, Jack had turned to leave, unable to even consider making his way back to Eric's side. He'd made his way back to the barracks, the hollow ache of missing Eric echoing through every part of him, each space and hollow that Eric used to fill resounding with the sudden irrevocable loss of him. But that was hours ago, and Jack. Jack can't even remember what he's done since he left the castle.

"Jack."

The strangest part might be the realization that there's no blood anywhere in his room in the barracks. He feels gutted, emptied out and laid bare, like everything inside of him should be on display, but instead the room is pristine, like nothing's changed, when, really, everything's changed.

"Jack, we might be able to save him."

The words come across a thousand miles, distant and surreal, and Jack doesn't register them at first. It feels like a lie, feels too incredible to be true, but if there's a _chance_ —

Jack looks up at Knight. "What?" he croaks out.

"The doctors think there's magic involved. A spell or curse of some sort. We might still be able to save the prince."

The second Jack registers Knight's words, registers that there's still a chance to save Eric, he feels like he can breathe again for the first time since he saw the intruder hours ago.

"They don't know how Parson got those abilities, but they know whatever's keeping the prince under isn't natural."

It's the first time Jack's thought of anything but leaving since the prince was stabbed. If there's magic involved, that changes everything.

It might be time for him to intervene.

——

Jack finds Justin in his chambers.

Justin gets to his feet, eyes sad but firm when they meet Jack's. "I'm coming with you."

Jack nods. "I know. You have everything we need?"

Justin nods back. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

——

Kent is smirking up at Jack when he and Justin make their way down to the cells, having already made their way past Birkholtz. "Boys," he says, smiling through the bruises that mar his face. The bruises that Jack put there. "What can I do for you?"

Jack steps into the cell, whip in his hand, and closes the gate behind him. "The curse you laid on the prince. What will cure him?"

Kent smirks, but says nothing, a challenge in every line of his body. Jack strikes, the whip cracking sharp and true across Kent's chest.

Kent doesn't even flinch.

"Your arm hasn't gotten much better in the last six years, has it, Zimmermann? Is that why they didn't let you come to my flogging? Because they knew you couldn't do the job yourself?"

Jack tightens his grip on the whip but doesn't let his mind stray from the matter at hand. "The curse. How do we break it?"

"Go to hell."

Jack lets the whip fly again, catching Kent on the shoulder this time. "How do we break it?"

Kent stares up into Jack's eyes, defiance in every line of his body.

Jack asks the question five more times. He gets no response to any of them.

As he lifts the whip for another blow, Justin finally speaks. "Got it," he says, voice cutting through the air. "I've got it, Jack."

Jack turns, stepping to the door and out of the cell, joining Justin in poring over his books.

"He's using a deep Southern strain of magic, but not so deep that I couldn't find the source. Once I had that, it was a simple enough to find the specific spell and the remedy." Justin points to there words near the bottom of the page.

_True love's kiss._

Jack's jaw goes tight, but he nods. "Good. Get Larissa. I'm going to finish up in here."

For the first time since Jack entered the room, Kent looks scared.

Justin stills Jack with a hand on his arm. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"He tried to killed the prince. Of course it's wise."

"I meant for you."

"I'm already disgraced, Justin. What else do I have left here? Let them send me away. Let them kill me. Whatever action they take will be worth it to keep the prince safe."

He draws his sword and crosses back over to the cell that holds Kent.

"Lay down your weapon, Jack."

Jack stills at Knight's clear voice resounding through the room. "Knight—"

"Don't make me turn you in, Jack. Please. I've done enough for you already."

Jack stands, shaking, before the man that he used to call his best friend. "He tried to kill Eric, Knight."

"And so will many more. But you cannot keep him safe if you yourself are dead."

Jack stares at Kent for a moment longer. Then, slowly, uncertain if he is doing the right thing, Jack sheathes his sword.

"Coward," Kent spits.

Jack grits his teeth, but he turns away.

There's nothing left for him down here.

——

His father is the second to come to him. Knight's pleas and insistence had fallen on deaf ears, Jack certain that there was nothing left for him here in the kingdom now that Eric was as good as dead. It had ached to know that, even if Larissa could wake him, it would simply be simply proof that they were as in love as they claimed, and then Jack would have absolutely nothing left here. His family, yes, and the memory of his years with Eric, but that was all tainted with failure now. He could feel it, crawling up to choke him every time he even thought about looking around the courtyard or walking through the castle. Eric was everywhere, in every nook and cranny of this place, and Jack would never be able to escape what Eric meant to him if he stayed. So he would leave, and let Eric and Larissa live out their lives in peace, without him to distract either of them. Knight had argued and argued and argued but none of it had been enough to sway Jack from his decision, and so Knight had thrown up his hands and given in, storming out of the barracks with anger in the lines of his back.

His father comes to him next, sitting in a chair near the door and watching Jack pack.

"You're leaving." It isn't a question.

Jack bites his lip and turns slowly from his packing to face his father. "I have failed the prince not once but twice now. I would have failed him a third time had Knight and Justin not prevented it. I cannot face him when he wakes." _If_ he wakes, Jack doesn't say.

"The king has been asking for you."

Jack scoffs. "Then he should come find me himself. I haven't served him since I was a boy. Eric is and always will be my king."

Robert watches Jack for a moment longer before nodding and getting to his feet. "I can see you've made up your mind." He reaches out, embracing his son firmly. "I hope you can live with your decision."

Jack doesn't speak. There's a lump in his throat.

——

Two hours later, the king does actually come down to the barracks to speak with Jack.

"Your prince needs you."

"He needs me to leave him."

The king stares at him as though he's never seen him before. "He needs you to _save_ him."

Jack turns slowly on his heel to stare at the king. "Larissa—"

"—couldn't save him," the king interrupts. "She knew it. The queen knew it. _I_ knew it."

Jack frowns. "Did she even—"

"—try to wake him? A dozen times, Jack. She loves him, but he is not her true love."

Jack tries to find the words the king wants him to say but comes up dry.

"She loves another," he says, voice firm. "As does my son."

Jack's throat goes tight. He can't speak through the fear at the king's implication.

The king's face goes from restrained and royal to the open sort of desperation that Jack has only ever seen in knights returned from the battlefield. "Do you want me to beg, Jack? Because I will beg." The king lowers himself to his knees and Jack feels everything in him twist with the wrongness of the sight. "I'm begging you, Jack. Please. Save the prince. Save my son. _Save Eric_."

All Jack can do is nod.

——

The king lets him into Eric's chambers and quietly ushers the rest of the waiting mourners out. He places a strong hand at the small of Jack's back, then follows the rest of them out.

Jack can't move.

If there's one thing that Eric has always been in Jack's mind, it's larger than the body he inhabits. His faith and trust and love have always spilled out over the edge and made his essence fill any room he's in. Now.

Now he just looks small.

Jack's fingers trace over the rim of a cup on Eric's table, the consistency and familiarity in the action the only thing grounding him in the moment.

Slowly, shaking down to his core, he crosses the room to Eric's bedside, seating himself on the edge of the bed as he has a thousand times before. He brushes Eric's limp bangs from his forehead, and somehow, through the haze that he seems to be walking through, Jack feels like he can _see_ the press of the curse, thick and heavy around his prince. But he doesn't once think of Kent, down in the dungeons, awaiting his punishment.

All he can see is Eric.

In a rush, years of protecting his prince—his _king_ —fall into place like instinct, and all he can do is lean in, one hand going to Eric's cheek, and press his lips to Eric's.

For a long moment—too long—Eric doesn't move, still as death beneath Jack's touch. Jack squeezes his eyes shut, not daring to believe that even he won't be enough for his prince, even though he thinks he's known it from the start. That no matter what Jack would be willing to give—his heart, his mind, his body, his soul, his life, his _everything_ —it still wouldn't be enough. It's terrifying, sets his heart hammering in his chest while he tries to fight past the tiny desperate hope he'd been foolish enough to let into his heart. Jack was never going to be enough. But then.

But then.

Eric draws in a sharp breath through his nose, and Jack draws back, eyes wide and traitorously wet as he watches his prince open his eyes slowly.

"Jack?" he breathes, voice thin and tired. Jack chokes on a laugh, desperation and relief making him weak. "Why'd you stop?"

Jack doesn't have an answer. He just leans in and kisses Eric again.

——

Jack kisses Eric until Eric falls asleep, exhausted from the healing his body is undergoing, freed as it is from the worst of the curse. Even after Eric has fallen asleep, Jack doesn't move, marveling that he's been allowed to stay at Eric's side for so long.

Then he gets slowly to his feet, turning toward the door and slipping out into the hall where the king and queen are waiting with Larissa, Knight, and Jack's father.

It takes Jack a moment to find his words, long enough that the queen seems to fear the worst, stepping forward, clutching at Jack's arm, and searching his face.

Jack allays her fears as soon as he finds his voice. "He woke up. I think… I think he'll be okay."

Jack watches the relief spread through the gathered group, the queen actually bursting into tears and pressing her hands to her face as she cries. The king is calling for action, ordering the doctor to be brought up. Larissa falls into Knight's arms, one hand pressed to her mouth as she clearly tries not to cry, and oh. _Oh_.

The second his father's eyes wander from Jack to the king, Jack makes himself scarce.

His hands are shaking before he even makes it out of the castle, because this. This changes nothing. He lied, broke Eric's trust, and left him vulnerable to the attack that had left him at death's door. He's failed in everything that he'd sworn he would do for his prince. Not even saving Eric's life feels like enough to make up for that. Nothing's going to change. He still needs to leave.

It isn't until dusk has fallen and he's spent the afternoon packing that he pauses. Leaving still feels like the right thing to do, but the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Eric sets his stomach twisting. After eleven years, Eric deserves to hear from Jack himself that he's leaving. Deserves not to find out second hand.

He lowers his mostly-packed bag to the ground.

If he's going to leave, he owes it to Eric to tell the prince himself.

——

Jack waits two days before he goes to see Eric. He waits, and when he hears word that the prince is mostly recovered, he makes his way back up to the castle just after dawn. He encounters no questions, and no one tries to stop him, which makes him wonder what has been said about him in the last two days. In the end, though, he doesn't care. He's going to speak with the prince, and then he's going to leave. That's all.

Birkholtz is standing guard at the prince's door when Jack finally makes his way there. He smiles at Jack and opens the door without question. Jack doesn't take the time to question it, simply slipping into his prince's room.

Eric is asleep, as he so often is at this hour, and for a long moment, Jack just stands at the doorway, watching him. Soon enough, though, as though he could feel Jack's eyes on him, Eric stirs. Jack crosses the room, bringing a chair from the table close enough that he could reach out and touch Eric, but far enough away that the prince can keep his distance if he wants it.

Eric takes a moment to get his bearings, and when he does, his eyes find Jack's. For a split second, his gaze is warm and open, but then it shifts to something guarded and, though Jack thinks no one else would be able to see, afraid.

"Jack."

"Eric."

They sit in silence, just taking in each other's presence for longer than Jack thinks they should need.

Then again, he doesn't think he'll ever need to stop looking at Eric.

Finally, Eric turns onto his side, fingers reaching out to toy with the hem of Jack's shirt. "I heard you saved me."

Jack feels his face heat, and it's only knowing that he may never get to see Eric like this again, warm and soft from sleep that keeps him from looking away. "Something like that."

Eric laughs, soft and private. "Always so modest."

Jack flushes even darker.

Eric smiles. "Thank you."

"I was only—"

"—doing your duty." Eric closes his eyes and sighs. "I know."

Jack swallows, suddenly certain he's made some crucial error here.

Eric rolls back to his back, eyes shut. "I shouldn't keep you from your betrothed."

Jack blinks. "Betrothed?"

Eric turns to him, confusion in the lines of his face. "Camilla?"

Jack stares at Eric, the memory of his deceit filling him with shame. If this is the last time that he gets to see Eric, he can't let there be any lies between them. "She's not my betrothed."

Eric frowns, looking politely confused at the revelation. Jack looks away, running a distressed hand through his hair before turning back to Eric.

"I lied."

Eric nods, still frowning. "Why?"

Jack closes his eyes, the weight of his foolishness weighing him down. "Do you remember what happened the day you announced your courtship?"

Eric nods, his face going a little pale. "You stepped in front of an arrow for me."

Jack blinks, a little surprised at the quickness with which Eric can place the memory, recovering from the curse as he is. It's not the first time he's taken a blow for Eric, but it's the only time since the first that they've talked about them after the fact. "You remember that?"

Eric looks insulted. "I remember every blow you've taken for me, Jack." He sits up slowly and reaches a hand up to Jack's face, ghosting his thumb over an eight year old scar on Jack's cheek. "Every single one."

Jack stares at Eric, stunned into silence for a long moment. Then he shakes it off, looking down at his knees instead of at Eric. "It shouldn't have happened at all."

Eric scoffs. "You can't see everything, Jack."

"Perhaps. But sometimes I feel like I can't see anything else when I look at you."

Eric tilts his head, waiting for Jack to say something more.

Jack's not used to being the one of them that needs to talk. Usually that's more Eric's area. But here, now, he knows there's no getting around it. So he turns to Eric and meets his gaze head-on. "I love you, Eric. And the thought of harm coming to you— _any_ harm—is more than I can bear."

Eric gasps, pressing his hands to his mouth as he stares, wide-eyed and stunned at Jack.

"And that makes me a liability. I can't protect you if all I can see is you."

Eric stares at Jack for a long time, hands still pressed to his mouth. After a long moment, he lowers his hands to his lap, his eyes still fixed on Jack. He seems to be choosing his words carefully. "Doesn't that make you better equipped for this than anyone else?"

Jack stands up abruptly, hands in his hair as he tries to find the words to make Eric understand. In the end, though, there's only one fact that matters. "I nearly got you _killed_ , Eric!" he shouts, whirling back to face Eric.

"No," Eric says, voice firm and kingly, and it stops Jack's heart for a moment. "My position nearly got me killed. You…" He smiles, radiant and everything that Jack loves about him. "You _saved_ me."

Jack feels his breath stop in his chest while he stares at Eric, his whole understanding of the world tilting on its axis. Slowly, he lowers himself to one knee, slipping his sword from the sheath and extending it toward Eric. Eric slips out of bed, standing on what Jack can only imagine are weak, shaking legs, and accepts the blade. "Your Highness," Jack begins, voice soft and a little reverent as he bows his head. "I am yours to lead and to command. What would you have me do?"

Eric doesn't respond for a long time. Then, slowly, he presses the flat of the blade to Jack's shoulders in turn before dropping the sword carelessly to the ground. Something in the back of Jack's mind protests the treatment of his weapon, but then Eric's on his knees in front of Jack, reaching out to tilt his head up to meet Eric's eyes. "I would have you stand at my side. I would have you protect me. And, if you are willing, I would have you love me. Are you willing?"

Jack stares into his king's eyes and has never felt more certain of his place. He reaches out, pulling Eric close. "I am willing." Then he kisses Eric breathless, both of them on their knees in his chambers. Eric clings to him, tiny whimpers in the back of his throat while he kisses Jack like his life depends on it.

Jack tries not to remember that, only days ago, it did.

When they finally draw back from each other, Jack's hands are still pressed, huge and possessive, to Eric's cheeks. Eric's eyes are closed, and Jack thinks he could go on doing this forever if he didn't know the prince was still healing. So he lifts the prince into his arms and stands, easing him back into his bed.

Eric looks up at Jack, fear in his eyes when Jack doesn't immediately join him in bed. But Jack just smiles, stripping out of his uniform before slipping into bed beside Eric. He smoothes Eric's hair from his forehead and kisses the skin there reverently.

"Rest, my king."

Eric sighs, leaning into Jack. "Not a king yet."

"But you are and always will be my king, Eric." Jack presses a kiss to the top of Eric's head. "Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me [on tumblr](http://hollyandvice.tumblr.com/) to cry about both real and fictional hockey boys!


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